


Storms Hide Tender Hearts

by StabMeLikeYouMeanIt



Series: Mattie's Big Adventure [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trans Canada (Hetalia), Trans Character, Trans Male Character, france and england are just mentioned, light Violence, unnamed male character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StabMeLikeYouMeanIt/pseuds/StabMeLikeYouMeanIt
Summary: Alfred promised to help Matthew with his growing urges, but his new plan could have some unexpected consequences. When things go south, feelings will come to light and Matthew might just find some stability
Relationships: Canada/Netherlands (Hetalia)
Series: Mattie's Big Adventure [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611304
Kudos: 7





	Storms Hide Tender Hearts

[Advert]

**_ Gorgeous Blonde Twink available for Escort Services!!! _ **  
_Hot, newly legal Canadian teen available for hire as an escort! Available to work as a stand-in date for parties, family gatherings, business events, and social status. Young boy prepared to dress as instructed and willing to travel. Base cost $50 for stand-in date, $70 for a full night of action. Contact Jones for more details: xxx-xxx-xxxx_

"You did what?!" Mathieu shrieked in fear, throwing a pillow at his gloating brother. He looked at the computer screen again, not believing what he read. "You put an ad up?? I'm not a prostitute!" he turned to glare at Alfred, shoving the laptop back across the bed. The other shrugged, a stupid grin stuck on his face. "No, but... hey, you said you wanted my help! This is good enough isn't it?" he replied nonchalantly, changing tabs to his email. "No one said you actually had to do it, just thought you might find it fun!" Mathieu crossed his arms, doubtful that was the case at all. His eyes wandered towards the screen again, noticing a few responses.

"It's just a fun way to get some extra money, and if the creep goes too far you beat his face in and leave!" Alfred chirped as he opened the messages, scanning through them. "See, here's a guy who wants you to attend a business party with him! Guess he's some old fart that wants to look desirable."

Against his better judgement Mathieu read the email, scanning for any sort of trick. "Just going to a party...?" he mumbled, biting his lip in thought. There wasn't necessarily anything wrong with that, he supposed, and it was more than the ad requested.... "If something goes wrong, you'll come get me?"

* * *

Mathieu stood under the overhang of a coffee shop, pretending to read a pamphlet in a language he didn't understand. Rain splashed against the cobblestone street, lulling him into a false sense of security. He glanced around every few minutes, waiting for his customer- no, he didn't like the sound of that... his accomplice? Broken out of thought by the hand on his arm, he turned to see a man of average height. The man spoke in that strange language while the boy just stared at him. "Mathieu?" At the sound of his name he nodded, letting the man lead him off towards what he could only assume was the party location. He slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the phone there for a false sense of security. Thanks to Alfred he was in a strange country, walking with a strange man who spoke words he couldn't understand, with only his phone and the promise of payment to keep him from bailing. ' _It's only a business party...'_ Mathieu reminded himself, shivering from the cold air. The strange man wrapped an arm around his waist as they approached a tall building, let in by two over-sized guards. He swallowed down his fear, looking over at the man and trying to smile.

The party was already going when they entered and Mathieu stuck close to his hirer, feeling exposed without his heavy coat. The young boy was wearing a button up and short skirt, embarrassed by the looks of other attendees. His head spun with paranoid thoughts: _Is my packer in the right spot? Does my chest look flat enough? It's too tight, they can see me clearly. Why a skirt, he paid for a boy... paid. He_ ** _paid_** _for me._ He tugged at the hem of the skirt, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to make himself smaller, holding onto the arm of his customer. He could play pretend, it would be easy- he didn't need to worry about conversations he couldn't understand, all he had to do was smile and seem charming. Not that it was hard to look charming when he was surrounded by old businessmen. After awhile, he started to relax; his accomplice had taken a seat to chat with what Mathieu could only assume were other important business people by the high-end clothes they wore, which left him to sit on the arm of the chair, watching the rain out the window. He hardly noticed the arm that worked its way around his waist, only breaking his gaze when offered a drink. A glance at his host and he knew he couldn't refuse it, not if he wanted to finish the party smoothly. Cautiously he took the glass offered, taking a polite sip. The smell was instantly recognizable: a rich red wine, one he couldn't name but could remember his father drinking. His father... what would Francis think? His cheeks paled as the thought crossed his mind, gone almost as soon as it came when he felt a hand lay on his thigh. He suddenly felt like he needed more of the drink, an excuse to move away from the older men and clear his head, returning with a couple glasses to offer to his hosts.

The night passed quickly for the young man. He could feel eyes on him from every angle, hiding himself in the glasses of sweet red liquid. Mathieu knew it was the wrong way to handle the situation, but he didn't know where his coat was and, subsequently, his phone. He couldn't call Alfred, couldn't do anything but wait it out. Finally, his host grabbed his arm, said something unintelligible and motioned to the door. Mathieu nodded quickly, he felt much too warm by now and the rain had stopped, he was all too ready to leave. Upon standing, however, he stumbled, grabbing onto the old man's arm for balance. "This... this is wrong" he mumbled to himself, feeling much too disoriented than he should have for the amount he drank. Often he had drank with Francis in the evenings, laying his head in his father's lap and talking about the future. Something was wrong.

Mathieu let himself be led outside, having to focus much too hard on walking. His legs felt weak, skin burning up despite the cool night air. _Air? Where's my coat..?_ Heart speeding up, his breath caught in his throat. _What's wrong with me...?_   
Suddenly jerked to the side, he tripped against the curb and fell against the wall of a shop. His head spun, attempting to push himself up only to be yanked roughly to his feet. The man laughed; whatever he was saying Mathieu didn't like, eyes shut tight as he shook in fear, pushing against the body coming closer to him. "S-stop! I... I didn't come f-for this!" he yelled, hoping someone would help him, that someone would know English. A harsh slap took his breath away as his eyes shot open, face stinging as he fell back, cowering against the wall. The man grabbed his hair, yanking him away and dragging him down a dark road. "NO!!!" he shrieked, tears streaking down his face. He was going to be kidnapped, or killed, or... he couldn't bear to finish the thought. Nobody would know where he was, his body would be lost and his family would never know what happened to him.

He went limp as he was shoved to the ground, head banging against the concrete, trying to curl up into a ball for safety. His body shook with sobs as he waited for the next blow. For a moment, everything was quiet, he couldn't hear anything over his own breathing. Then, someone swore loudly before running. He was too afraid to open his eyes, worried if he did he would only see more people there to hurt him. Footsteps approached from the opposite direction, the owner grumbling in that foreign tongue. He tried to be quiet, hoping whoever it was would ignore him.... when a hand touched his shoulder he yelped, flinching away only to be held still. "Bonnefoy child?"

At this, Mathieu dared to open his eyes, confused. Did the man come back? Did they find out who he was? It took a second for his vision to focus on the man kneeling next to him. He leaned forward a bit to see him better, glasses long gone, when he recognized a familiar scent: natural, calming, with a hint of weed- "M... M-Mister...?" he whispered, shaking as the other carefully tilted his face to the light, expression softening as he saw the bruises forming on the younger's body. Mathieu couldn't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks, relieved to have been saved by someone he knew. "What happened to you?" the Netherlands asked, trying to help the younger man stand up.

Mathieu tried to answer, but all that left his lips was another sob as he fell into the other, caught by caring arms that he clung to, legs shaking as he tried to support himself. After a moment of thought, the Dutch man lifted him up, holding him close to his chest, pained when he saw the battered boy start to panic. "It is okay, Mathieu. Let me help you." He said softly, watching for the other's response. Mathieu's eyes searched his for truthfulness, calming as he clung to the man's familiar tan coat. He felt faint, much too warm, face stinging, hiding it in the other's neck as he was carried from that dark alley. "I... I'm sorry" He whispered, his fingers curling into the other's shirt as he was shushed.

They continued in silence interrupted only by Mathieu's whimpers or sounds from the streets. He gave up trying to look around blindly and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the familiar warmth creeping up his abdomen. After what could have been a few minutes or closer to twenty, he felt the other's chest rumble as he spoke, not comprehending what was said. A gentle pat on his leg made him jump, opening his eyes to look up at his savior hurriedly. He paused when he saw the other's face lit by the gentle glow of a porch light as he released his hold on the man's shirt, hand wandering dreamily to his face to trace the scar he saw there. "Did you hear me? I need to set you down for a moment." The words hit Mathieu and he was quick to pull his hand back, awake now and blushing feverishly. He didn't trust himself to speak, opting instead to nod and let himself be set on his feet- immediately he felt unstable and hugged the taller man's arm for support. Holland help him through the door, leading the wounded man straight to the living room and sitting him down. A moment of silent understanding passed between them as he saw Mathieu in the light for the first time that night, taking in the torn fabric that was left of the boy's clothes. Sighing, he turned to head for the bathroom but barely made it a step before he was tugged back by the arm. "NO!!" squeaked out the frightened boy. Holland turned to look at him, seeing the hurt and fear in his eyes.

"I-I mean..." Matt stuttered, grasping the man's hand tightly as he pleaded, "Don't... don't leave me alone, please." He quickly cast his eyes down, embarrassed at his sudden outburst as he interlaced their fingers. "I-I'm scared..." he paused, breath catching in his throat. He didn't want the other to leave, but he didn't want him to see him like this either. He flinched when he felt a hand run through his hair.

"I'll be right back," the larger man said, adding "Promise." Mathieu nodded, reluctantly letting go of his hand. He left, returning as quickly as he could with what few medical supplies he had. They sat side-by-side as the Netherlands set to work trying to clean the boy up, mumbling apologies when he flinched away from the sting of medicine. He placed a bandage on a cut on his cheek, frowning as he saw the bruises on his body darkening. Finally, he sighed "There. As best I can do." Mathieu nodded, afraid to look him in the eyes as he leaned against him, shivering as he realized just how exposed he was. "T-thank you, mister Abelsson. I'm sorry-" he was cut off by another shush and a pat on the cheek.

"You don't need to apologize." Holland said gruffly, only imagining what the boy had been through that night. He felt the other settle beside him and try to hug him, avoiding it by pulling his phone out and searching for a number. "I'll call France, let him know-" he paused as he felt the man beside him stiffen, fear evident in the eyes that begged him not to. His eyebrow quirked up as he put it together. "...He doesn't know, does he?" The boy looked away, trying to come up with an excuse and failing. He sighed, shifting so Mathieu had no choice but to look at him. "Does he?"

"N-no..." Mathieu whispered, eyes watering up. He couldn't even begin to imagine Arthur's rage if he knew what he had been doing, sneaking away from home to meet with strange men for money. Tears fell freely when he pictured how disappointed in him Francis would be when he learned of it, and of course Alfred would act as if he had no clue about it, leaving all the blame to fall on him. He was pulled from his thoughts by Holland brushing the tears off his cheek. "Please... Please don't call him, I'll be good, I swear! I... I don't want him to know...." he confessed, hugging himself tightly as if that would make the whole situation disappear. Holland let out a tense sigh, nodding his agreement as he mulled over what he had been told. France didn't know his son was in his country, nor did the boy want him to know. He could guess what he had been here to do based off of how he found him, but he didn't want to think about that.

"You can stay."

Mathieu flung himself into the taller man's arms, trying to hold back tears of relief as he quickly thanked him. Holland was taken aback, his theories only confirmed by the other's reaction. Slowly, he let himself return the hug, feeling the tension leave the smaller boy's body as he snuggled into his chest. This was the only person who had hugged him that wasn't his sister, and as strange as it was, he mused, he found he liked the way the boy seemed to fit in his arms. The Netherlands quickly shoved that thought into the back of his mind, telling himself it was just because he knew the boy would be safe here. After a moment, he moved back and spoke "It's late. You should sleep." Mathieu nodded into his chest, finally letting go of the larger man and following him back to the bedroom. "You can sleep here" Holland instructed him, searching through his dresser to pull out a shirt for the younger boy and handing it to him. At the confused look he received, he elaborated: "To wear. Your clothes are ruined." Mathieu blushed, accepting the shirt with a quiet thanks and walked into the adjoining bathroom.

With the door locked, he turned to the mirror and saw himself for the first time since he'd gotten dressed. His bow tie was gone, shirt torn in several places and skirt utterly ruined from the grime of the streets. His legs were covered in scuffs and bruises, and his cheek was still red from being slapped earlier. As he took all of it in, only one thing crossed his mind- _whore_. He shook his head violently, trying to force the word out of his mind. He wasn't, he couldn't be.... could he? He had come here to accompany someone to a party, that was all! At least, that's all Alfred had told him. Was he set up, did Alfred lie to him? Suddenly his throat felt dry, he didn't want to think anymore. Turning away from the mirror, he stripped out of the dirty clothes. He paused for a second after reflexively going to take his binder off- what if he noticed his chest? He had gone through too much already that night, he couldn't face rejection from the one person he could trust right now. Instead he left it on, pulling on the shirt he was given and freezing when he realized he had no pants. His face flushed red at the wild thoughts that raced through his head, having to remind himself that any of the man's pants would be too big for him anyways. Suddenly he felt ashamed for assuming the man had perverted intentions, it was just his imagination and his crush on the elder that made him so nervous. Shaking his head he turned to the mirror, unable to help smiling at the sight of himself. Holland's shirt was like a dress on him, his boxers just barely peaking out from beneath the hem. He giggled softly, the movement causing it to drape off his shoulder; he knew he was short- only standing at 5'3- but never realized just how much taller the man was compared to him. Cautiously he opened the door, returning to the bedroom to find Holland sitting on the edge of the bed, occupied with taking his boots off and shirtless. He couldn't help the blush that spread on his cheeks, suddenly aware of how muscular the man was. Then again, he had carried Mathieu's chubby self all the way to his house, of course he would be strong. Suddenly he felt very self-conscious and looked down, shuffling towards him.

Holland looked up when he heard the boy approach, allowing himself to look over the boy. He hummed to himself in approval, moving to one side of the bed. Mathieu quickly sat on the bed, pulling the covers up over his lap. He glanced at the time, biting his lip before speaking up. "M-Mister Abelsson?" The man in question glanced at him. "U-Um... could I borrow your phone? I lost mine." he asked quietly, "I need to call my brother..." He nodded, handing the younger boy his phone before he walked out. He typed Alfred's number into the phone, only half-surprised to find out he was already a contact. He typed up a quick message: _This is Mattie, I'm okay. With Mr. Abelsson, won't be back tonight._ Without another thought he placed the phone on the nightstand, getting settled under the covers. The man returned, flicking the light off and sliding into the bed beside him, only half-aware of the boy's flushed face. He stretched his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. There was a gap between them, yet he could still tell the boy was shaking. "Cold?" he questioned, causing the other to jump.

"Y-yeah, sorry" Mathieu mumbled, trying to relax enough to fall asleep. He rolled over, surprised to find himself almost curled into the other man. He hurried to apologize and move away, but was cut off before he even started. "Its fine," Holland told him, already half-asleep, "You're fine." The blond paused, unsure if he was talking about him being cold or him being so close. He waited to see if he would continue, but there was nothing but silence as the other slept. Carefully Mathieu crept closer to the man, curling up against him and relishing in his warmth. He was finally able to drift off as he listened to the other's slow breaths, eyes slipping closed as he thought he felt an arm wrap around him.


End file.
